


Green Orbs

by imp_roper_keming



Series: Pint-sized Prompts [7]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Adventure, Fog, Humor, Towel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imp_roper_keming/pseuds/imp_roper_keming
Summary: Kathryn doesn't have coffee.  Harry is a hoopy frood.For maximum awkwardness, let's go with early Season 3 on this one.





	

Cold fog swirled thick around her, wet enough to slick her hair flat down her back. Captain Janeway sighed, more annoyed that she’d just set down her coffee than the fact that she’d been kidnapped by aliens. Again.

“Computer - end program,” she stated firmly. Nothing happened. Damn, not Tom pulling a prank, then. She pulled her bathrobe closed and tied the sash before addressing the fog in front of her. “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. Why have you brought me here?”

Silence.

She looked around, well tried to look around; the fog was thicker than her mother’s split-pea soup. Reaching in all directions was equally useless, there was only clammy fog to touch. With hands stretched out in front of her, she took a tentative step. Mud and grass squelched between her toes. A planet? One direction was as good as another with the lack of information.

42 careful and maddeningly slow steps later something brushed her shoulder. She spun, grabbing at it. A bare arm. The owner of the arm tried to push her away with a startled yelp. She needed answers. Pulling as she stepped closer, she tripped the person and went down with them, getting a hand on their throat and a knee just below their ribcage to keep them out of breath. Tuvok would appreciate that she was putting his new self-defense classes to good use.

“Who are you,” she demanded. The person let out a choked sound and she warily loosened her grip a fraction.

“It’s Ensign Kim, Captain.”

She released him instantly, shifting to the side. “Sorry about that. Any information on where we are?”

“Only that the fog is just as thick 78 steps that way.”

“Well, we’re not finding a way out by sitting here.” She pushed a hand toward him at shoulder level and brushed skin. “Give me your hand, so we don’t get separated.”

Fingers clasped around hers, warm in the chilly air. She stood, pulling him with her, tucking her hand inside his elbow as if they were at a formal ball, rather than lost on a mysterious planet. It was less awkward than holding hands at least. They managed to get four steps before her wrist brushed against his bare ribs. Or more awkward. She stifled a sigh.

“Ensign, are you-” Don’t say naked, don’t say naked. “-wearing anything?” She could practically hear him blush.

“Uh, yes, Ma’am. A towel, Ma’am.”

A snippet of ancient literature floated through her head. She grinned despite the situation. “Good man. Always know where your towel is.”

“Yes, Captain.” He sounded puzzled. She was definitely going to send him a copy of that book when they got back, the classics shouldn’t be neglected.

She tugged him back into motion. 216 steps later Harry murmured, “Up there,” his arm nudging slightly to the right.

A pair of sickly green orbs bobbed past in front of them, about 4 meters off the ground.

“Stop,” she commanded quietly. Looking around there were several more pairs, all at about the same height. They sort of looked like eyes. She repeated her earlier introduction.

Still no response.

“We’d appreciate it if you could return us to our ship.”

Nothing.

She marched resolutely toward the closest pair, her outstretched hand felt nothing as she reached a point directly underneath them. Were they flying? Not actually eyes? She dropped Harry’s arm and moved off to the side, making her steps purposefully noisy.

“See if you can catch one.”

He jumped several times at various points around her, she could hear the squishy thuds as he landed.

“Anything?”

“Either they start at the lights and go up, or they’re projections. Maybe…”

“Yes?”

“I was just thinking that if you sat on my shoulders you could probably get at them.”

She was fairly certain that sitting on nearly naked Ensigns while wearing skimpy nightwear was listed under ‘things you should never, ever do’ in the Captain’s handbook. However, she couldn’t think of another immediate solution. They could walk around in the fog again, but there might not be another opportunity to learn about this. And this might be a way out…

“Alright, we’ll try it,” she stated in her best command tone.

Reaching out, she got a hand on his shoulder and he knelt down. Something brushed against her shin.

“Here, step on my hand.”

A brief scramble later and she was in place, his hands slid up to her knees to keep her steady.

“Umm…” The blush was back in his voice.

“Nightgown,” she answered the unasked question briskly. Harry nodded and she was suddenly glad she was wearing underwear. She cleared her throat. “Ready?”

“Sure. Going up.”

A single grunt of effort and the orbs were within her reach. Definitely not eyes. She ran her hands around one of the spheres. It was cool to the touch, almost metallic, but not quite. There were no buttons, or protrusions, or seams. It wasn’t connected to anything. Trying to move it was an exercise in futility. She relayed her findings downward.

“Sorry, Captain. Anti-gravity lights are all I can come up with.” He shrugged, which was an interesting sensation, but not a distraction she needed just now.

Suddenly a soft, warm voice was coming from the sphere next to her. “Thank you for participating in the threat assessment test. Your species has been rated 3-theta. You will be granted limited flight paths and trading rights through the Holfnig Confederacy. Please stand by for transmission of further information.”

Before she could even open her mouth to reply they materialized on the Bridge. Harry staggered slightly and she grabbed at his hair to steady herself.

“What the?!” Chakotay exclaimed, jumping out of his chair and moving toward them. Tom was up too, reaching for her. Harry knelt and she slid from his back with too much help.

“The Holfnig Confederacy sends their regards,” she said drily when her feet were on the carpet. Then to Harry: “Dismissed, Ensign. We’ll see you at the Senior Staff meeting in an hour.”

“Aye, Captain!” He nearly ran for the turbolift, clutching his muddy towel.

“Are you alright, Captain?” Chakotay asked from too close behind her. He still had a hand possessively on her waist.

She stepped away with alacrity, softening it with a cheerful, “Nothing a few cups of coffee won’t fix, Commander.” Walking toward the upper deck she added, “Tuvok, there should be a transmission shortly. A list of flight paths and some trading ports for this sector. Have the briefing room set up so we can all discuss our options.”

“Acknowledged.”

She cast a last glance over the Bridge as the turbolift doors slid shut. Tom was smirking, Chakotay had his eyes fixed on her cleavage, several crewmen were whispering. There was going to be some damage control to do later today. But talking to Chakotay right now would be throwing oil on a fire, and barking randomly at the crew would just bring down morale. Publicly calling Tom out would be the easiest solution, although he wasn’t the actual problem. She sighed at the necessity of playing social politics.

“Deck 2,” she commanded the turbolift into motion. Right now she needed a long, hot, real water shower and several cups of coffee. And a nice, thick, concealing uniform. Then she would begin the Sisyphean task of trying not to think of a certain Ensign in a towel every time she saw him. She smirked as the doors slid open onto an empty corridor.

Shower first, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments will be treasured. Constructive Criticism is a priceless gift.


End file.
